To Be Beautiful
by lipstick-and-cigarettes
Summary: A chance meeting and a botched-up restaurant reservation finds Harry and Draco having dinner together. Which, of course, leads to Draco scoring Harry's number, and so they become friends. But the boys both have dark pasts to conceal, and some of their secrets could lead to the breakage of their fragile friendship.
1. A Meeting and an Exchange

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Harry, Draco or any of the other characters. I just make them have sex with the right people, unlike in a certain epilogue. *cough, J.K, cough*

**Pairings: **Harry/Draco

**Warnings: **non-magic, sex (slash), violence, eating disorders, self-harm.

**Rating: **NC-17 (for later on in the story)

**Summary: **Draco is a hot-shot lawyer, the youngest to graduate from Oxford in fifteen years. Harry is a poet, living mostly off the money his parents and godfather left to him. They meet in a restaurant after a botched-up reservation, and Draco scores Harry's number. Each is fascinated by the other, and become fast friends. But Draco is keeping secrets he's suppressed since he escaped from his family when he was seventeen.

* * *

**Part 1** – A Meeting and an Exchange

Draco lifted his head up from the toilet bowl, shuddering as his body finished dry-heaving. He'd emptied the contents of his stomach a while ago, but he wanted to be sure he'd gotten everything up.

Standing, he wiped his mouth with his hand and walked shakily to the shower, undressing and turning the taps on.

He sat in a small ball with his head thrown back, willing the hot water to sluice away every trace of the ugliness he possessed. Maybe hours later, when the water finally started going cold, he turned the faucet off and grabbed a giant, fluffy towel, trying his best not to glance down at his body or glimpse the reflection that would surely disgust him. He dressed, making sure everything he was wearing was of the current season. He frowned; he really should get rid of the clothes he still had from the previous season – who would want to go out with him if he was wearing old clothes?

"No one," was the answer that he voiced to his empty apartment.

Harry ducked glanced in his hall mirror as he rushed past, grimacing at the untameable nest of hair. Bypassing the elevator, he ran down the stairs two at a time, arriving in the lobby of his building slightly flushed and out of breath. As usual, he was going to be late. He flagged down a taxi with an extended arm as he checked his mobile with the other.

_From: Mione_

_Hey, Harry, I'm really sorry, but Ron and I can't make it tonight, but go to dinner anyway. I'll explain later, it's not something I can explain in a text message. Sorry again. xx_

_Sent: 6:42pm_

"Damnit!" Harry grumbled his way into the taxi cab, giving out the restaurant's name in a less-than-friendly tone, and stewed in annoyance in the back. But oh, well, he reasoned, no point wasting a good meal, right?

The cab driver pulled up a block away from the restaurant where Hermione had a table reserved.

Paying his fare, Harry wrapped the coat around himself tighter, and strode to the inviting doors of the restaurant. He walked in, stopping at the small desk where a hostess was currently on the phone. While she spoke, a tall blonde man walked in behind Harry, who tapped his foot unconsciously as the hostess confirmed a reservation and looked up.

"Good evening, sir, welcome to The Dragon's Den. Do you have a reservation?"

"Ah, yes, it's under Hermione Granger-Weasley. But only I will be dining tonight, she and her husband couldn't make it. Table 27, right?" The hostess consulted the reservation book, before looking worriedly up at him, and the blonde man behind him.

"Many apologies, sir, but… well, there seems to have been a mistake in the reservation. Both you and a Mr Malfoy have been booked at the same table. And, I'm terribly sorry, but all the other tables are full, being a Friday night."

The blonde man behind Harry made a small harrumphing noise. "I would be Mr Malfoy, actually." His voice was icy cold as he stalked up to stand beside Harry. "Am I to take it that one of us is going to have to leave?"

Harry looked sideways, assessing the blonde 'Mr Malfoy'. He was thin, painfully so, but his clothes were exquisite. His almost white hair framed a narrow, pointed face with a long nose and thin, pink lips with a perfect cupids bow. He was, for lack of a better-fitting word, extremely pretty. Harry cleared his throat.

"May I offer a solution?" Malfoy and the hostess looked at him expectantly. "Well… why disrupt anyone's plans? If Mr Malfoy is willing, I would be happy to share a table with him, if he isn't expecting company."

The hostess, looking relieved, turned to look at Draco, who bit his lip, looking thoughtful, and trying not to let his lips twitch at the slightly hopeful tone in Harry's voice. He gave him a subtle once-over. Shaggy black hair, with delicious little ringlets over his ears and curling at the nape of his neck. It fell into his gorgeous green eyes, which were hidden from a distance behind some spectacularly ugly round spectacles. He had a straight nose, a little short, underneath which was a pair of full, ruby red lips that glistened as his tongue darted out to lick them. Draco's eyes travelled downwards, past a stubbly chin to a ratty red and gold scarf and a large black wool coat. Draco nearly hummed in approval – the man was _gorgeous._ Well. In a scruffy kind of way, he supposed. His approval quickly turned to jealousy. Why couldn't he be beautiful like that?

"No, I am not expecting company, as it happens. I _would _be willing to share the table with Mr…" Draco trailed off, looking at Harry.

"Oh! I'm Harry. Harry Potter." The brunette stuck his hand out, giving Draco a crooked smile. Draco took the hand, the corners of his lips twitching upwards slightly.

"A pleasure, Mr Potter." Draco's hand slipped from Harry's grasp, leaving the latter feeling slightly bereft. The hostess beamed in relief, and grabbed two menus before leading the pair to the table. They sat, and Draco and Harry sat down to peruse the menus, falling into, Harry thought, a slightly uncomfortable silence. He cleared his throat and sipped at his water.

"Uh… so. I suppose this isn't so bad, right? It's better than dining alone, I reckon." Draco looked at Harry over his menu, raising a pale eyebrow.

"Indeed, Mr Potter. Though the disorganisation of this establishment could be cause for concern." Harry looked slightly bemused at the blonde's remark.

"Yeah… yeah, I guess so. Um, by the way, I didn't catch your first name."

"Draco. Do you know what the fishcakes here are like?" Draco looked slightly bored.

"Unfortunately, I'm not sure. This is my first time here. But I guess we can find out together, huh?" Draco smiled and nodded, his eyes wandering over Harry's face again.

He blinked, realising those red lips he'd been observing had moved. "Sorry, what?"

"I said, would you like to go halves with dinner? If you like Pad Thai, that is."

Draco smiled, "Sounds good, actually. Fishcakes and spring rolls, too?" Harry smiled that crooked smile, gestured for the waitress, and ordered for the both of them.

"So, Draco – I can call you that, right?" The blonde nodded his assent, and Harry continued. "What brings you to town on a Friday night?"

Draco shrugged his shoulders. "I was bored and fancied some Thai food. How about you, why couldn't your company turn up?"

Harry replied with a grimace and a shoulder-shrug. "Um… I'm not sure, as such. My friend, Hermione, texted me as I was on my way here, and said she and her husband couldn't show, but she didn't say why. It certainly piqued my curiosity, but I doubt I'll find out til tomorrow."

Draco hummed, not really interested about the man's friends. "So you came out alone?"

Harry grinned. "Sure. I mean, why waste a good meal, right? That's my mates motto, at any rate."

"I'm inclined to agree with your mate, actually." The two men shared smiles, and fell into a distinctly more comfortable silence than before, listening to the bustle of the restaurant.

Harry suddenly perked up, "Hey, isn't 'Draco' Latin for 'Dragon'?"

Draco groaned, and chuckled slightly into his hands he had covered his face with. "It is, unfortunately. My mother's family has an irritating habit to name their children after stars. Mine is after the Dragon constellation. I don't mind Draco, but I really, _really _detest people calling me 'Dragon'."

"I'll bear that in mind then, shall I?" Harry grinned as their food finally arrived. He halved the noodle dish, heaping it onto his plate and tucking in like a starving man, half forgetting about his dinner companion. Draco watched silently for some time as Harry ate with gusto, then spooned a noticeably smaller portion of the noodles onto his own plate, and twirled his chopsticks around in it, eating slowly and carefully.

The pair ate in silence, each subtly watching the other in turns. Harry was intrigued by Draco – he was obviously well-off, judging by his clothes, not to mention his haughty demeanour. Yet he was clearly a friendly person._ With gorgeous eyes_, Harry thought as he rested his chin in his hand, and watched as Draco ate slowly, noticing in amusement that he didn't go anywhere near the carrot.

Draco felt eyes on him, and looked up, realising with a glimmer of satisfaction – or was it hope? – that Harry had been unconsciously staring.

"Potter?"

Cue raised eyebrow as Harry shook visibly himself, and blushed prettily. "Yeah, sorry, what? Kinda… drifted off, I guess."

Draco smirked, and merely ate another noodle.

Harry stretched back in his chair, feeling full and relaxed. The evening had gone well, he thought. Draco had excused himself to the bathroom – a full ten minutes ago, Harry realised with a shock as he glimpsed his watch. He sat up properly, wondering what was taking so long. Perhaps he should go to the men's to check? Or, not, he thought, because Malfoy would probably think it the height of rudeness. Or something. He was a bit of an enigma, really.

Five more minutes passed, and Draco still hadn't returned. Harry was growing a little worried. He motioned for their waitress to deliver the cheque.

She arrived, looking annoyingly perky, and handed him the bill. "Was the meal to you satisfaction, Mr Potter?"

"Yeah, it was lovely…" distractedly, Harry paid the girl and grabbed both his and Draco's coats, then headed towards the loos, pushing the door open a little hesitantly. "Erm… Malfoy?"

A muffled curse came from a stall at the other end of the bathroom, a toilet flushed, and a slightly dishevelled looking Malfoy walked out. "Potter? What's the matter?"

Harry blushed brilliantly, and looked away from the piercing stare. "Sorry, I just maybe thought something was up, because you'd been gone for like, fifteen minutes or something."

A pale blonde eyebrow was raised as Draco watched the blush continued to stain Harry's cheeks from the reflection of the mirror over the sinks. "My apologies. Someone called me before I went to the toilet, and it was important. You shouldn't have felt the need to wait for me, however."

Harry looked flustered, and shuffled his feet a little. "I – yeah… sorry, I just thought I should. We did dine together. And… well, I was wondering if you'd want my number…"

Draco dried his hands silently, contemplating Harry. "Why would you want to give me your number?"

"Well, maybe if you felt like having dinner together again or something… I'm sorry, I shouldn't have presumed. Um. Your coat, by the way." He thrust it forward, and Draco took it, with ill-concealed amusement.

"What's funny?"

"Well, I just didn't think you'd be up to seeing me again. And I also find it interesting that you blush so readily. I would like to have your number, as it happens."

Harry beamed, and took a piece of paper towel from the dispenser, and a pencil stub from his pocket, hastily scribbling his mobile number down. Draco took the opportunity to give Harry's arse a thorough checking-out as he was bent over the sink. _My god, the things I could do to him in that position… _he thought, unconsciously licking his lips. He was shaken from his less-than-pure thoughts as Harry straightened and turned, handing him his number.

"Shall we move this conversation to somewhere other than the lavatory?" Harry nodded, and they made their way to the hostess' desk. Draco began to fish out his wallet.

"Oh, Draco, it's okay, I already paid."

A flicker of surprise, quickly followed by… annoyance? – flitted across Draco's face before returning to its usual cool countenance. "Well, thankyou, Potter, but that really wasn't necessary. I am more than capable to pay for my own meals. How much was it, so I can reimburse you?"

Harry gave his own look of surprise. "What? No, no, I don't mind. Really. If you're so strongly opposed to me shouting you, you can pay for our next meal together. Deal?"

Again, the blonde looked surprised. Then he gave a smile that fairly lit up his face. "Deal, Potter." Who knew? He was genuinely bemused that Harry would actually want to dine with him again. "Shall we go, then?"

They left the restaurant together, and soon their conversation fell into an awkward silence as they stood a few metres away from the entrance to the Dragon's Den. "Um… I'm headed that way," Harry said, pointing in the exact opposite direction to where Draco needed to go. No matter, though. Harry didn't know where he lived.

"What a coincidence, me too." Draco smiled slightly. He hailed a cab, and they both climbed in. Draco had a sudden realisation, and could have kicked himself. He didn't even know if Harry batted for the same team as him! Silently, he checked his gaydar as Harry nattered on about – football. He gave an inward groan. That was a point in the straight direction. Damn. But he was so well dressed! _They may be stereotypes, but stereotypes are stereotypes for a reason_, he thought. _Perhaps I should just ask? Oh, god, no…_He was flying totally blind, but he couldn't just _ask _whether or not the man was gay!

Draco continued his silent debate as he talked with Harry about completely inane subjects that he didn't really pay attention to. Then the cab pulled up in front of Harry's building, and he got out. He was about to close the door when he had an idea, and stuck his head back into the cab. "Hey, do you watch football?"

Draco hid his pained look that would convey his hatred for sports. "Sure, why?"

"Well, my mate gave me tickets to a Hornet's game that's on next weekend. Do you want to come along?"

Draco bit his lip, deliberating. Well, he would be able to get to know the man better… hell, what did he have to lose? "I would, yes."

Harry gave him that disarming crooked smile again. "Sweet. See you, then." He closed the door, watching as the cab pulled away from the curb, and… did a U-turn? Harry paused at the top of the steps to the lobby door. Draco had driven all this way when he needed to go the other way…

Confused, Harry made his way up the stairs to his apartment, thoughts lingering on his dinner companion. Then he face-palmed as he realised he'd neglected to get Draco's number.

Damn!


	2. Interlude

**Part 2 – Interlude**

Hot mouths crashed together, tongue on tongue, noses bumping and glasses cutting into cheeks. Clothes were shed quickly and finally, _finally_, Harry was pushing into the tight, hot little hole, groaning and biting and sucking as he thrust into the nameless blonde underneath him.

An hour later, the man he'd fallen into bed with had fallen asleep, and Harry had snuck out, feeling a little dirty and somehow unsatisfied. He wondered if this was all he'd ever have – quick shags with random blokes whose name he'd never know.

Some small, traitorous part of him hoped so.

Harry was late. Again. It seemed he was always late; at least, that's what Hermione said. Finally finding the café he'd promised to meet his friend at, he spotted her under an umbrella-d table and grinned as he sat down. "Hey, 'Mione." He said cheerfully – the after-effects of last night were yet to kick in, since he'd only been awake for an hour, and had had two pots of coffee and a few pain-killers. She smiled cheekily back at him. "You got laid last night, didn't you?"

Harry groaned and poked his tongue out at her. "So what if I did? I'm starting to think you have some weird obsession with gay sex, you know." She merely shrugged and sipped her tea demurely. "I'm giving you some blokes magazines for Christmas, see if I don't!"

Hermione's eyes twinkled over her cup, and Harry buried his face in his hands. "So, Harry, who was it?" Harry looked at her through his fingers, eyebrow raised. "Give you one good guess." All he received for that was an eye roll as Hermione ordered him some coffee and raisin toast from the waiter. He sat back, hoping the interrogation was over. But when she turned back toward him, she had that glint in her eyes – that glint she'd always get in class when she knew the answer to a question no one else did, or when she was determined to find an answer to some mysterious riddle. _Fuck._ He was so royally screwed.

"Harry, when are you going to find someone nice to actually date properly? Someone that you can actually see yourself having a future with? I know since Ginny and then that brief stint with Terry, you haven't seen anyone, and it's getting ridiculous! It's been three years since you actually went on a date, and you're doing nothing about finding someone else to be happy with! You need to get over this commitment issues thing you have."

Harry sighed and ran his hands through his hair. Ever since Hermione got together with Ron, she'd been obsessed with finding Harry a 'significant other' so she and Ron would have a couple to go on double dates with. It didn't help that she constantly worried about him, either. Harry steeled himself and looked Hermione straight in the eyes.

"Hermione." His tone was so firm she looked startled, and closed her mouth. For all of half a second. But before she could say anything else, he continued. "I love you, you know I do – but shut up about my love life." Hermione proceeded to blink rapidly, taken aback at her friends sharp words.

"But, Harry-"

"_Hermione. _I've met someone. Okay? Are you happy now?" Hermione blinked again, and Harry smirked.

"Oh. _Oh. _When?!" Hermione shoved the just-arrived coffee at Harry, looking way more excited than she had any right to be, really, Harry thought. I hHis His head had started to pound, courtesy of the half a bottle of rum he'd consumed through last night.

"When you cancelled dinner on me the other day. Why did you, anyway?" Harry half-heartedly tried to change the subject, hangover starting to loom menacingly.

"Ah. Well, mum fallen down the stairs, and they thought she'd broken her leg, but it was fine, she just had a few bruises. So, tell me more about this someone, how did you meet him?" Harry's shin was prodded by the pointy toe of Hermione's heels, and he glared.

"We were booked at the same table, and they didn't have any spare ones. So I said we may as well share the table, and yeah." He rubbed his temples, chugging his coffee.

"_Really?_ So, come on, what's his name? What does he look like? Was he nice? Are you going to see him again?" The questions just kept coming, and Harry refrained from shoving his toast in Hermione's mouth just to keep them at bay.

He leaned forward, stuffing it into his own mouth instead, and started telling her all about Draco Malfoy.

It wasn't until he had arrived back home and put his feet up did he realise that even though he'd only been saying he could see himself being able to have a 'thing' with Malfoy, to get Hermione off his back, he actually quite liked the blonde.


End file.
